


My True Love Gave to Me

by honeycombkiss



Series: among our every day life [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Christmas, M/M, a lot of christmas fluff!!, discusses buckys recovery, i promise there's actual substance too, not canon compliant with age of ultron or anything after
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8713171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeycombkiss/pseuds/honeycombkiss
Summary: Brooklyn, New York in 2015 is both vastly different and exactly the same as Brooklyn, New York in 1929. Steve can’t explain it, even if he tried. He thinks, though, that it’s most likely attributed to the familiar street names, still standing buildings, the bridge, and the community of so many different cultures. It might also have something to do with having Bucky Barnes right by his side; the only thing that hasn’t changed a bit.//a Steve/Bucky plus the Avengers Christmas story!





	1. On the First Day of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! This is my first completed fanfiction in quite a number of years! This one started out as a guilty pleasure to think about, and turned into a full fledged story! And with a plot, too! I am so excited to share it with you all. This is an advent story, so I will update every other day until Christmas Eve.

Chapter One – On the First Day of Christmas

A fully numb left arm was the first thing Steve realized as he awoke that morning. He could feel his right arm just fine, as it splayed across his side. Both legs were warm underneath their thick blue bed set. His eyes were too groggy to open and survey the situation. Instead, he groaned and stretched out the limbs he could feel. The body beside him shifted, setting a tingle through Steve’s briefly paralyzed left arm. The body moved again, and hot, pungent breath filled his nostrils. It was Bucky, of course, trying to get closer. Steve peeked an eye open, finding his left arm tucked underneath Bucky’s body. Bucky’s long hair splayed out across his pillow, tangles going every which way.

Steve attempted to pull his arm free, but to no avail. His second try only disrupted Bucky, who made a whine in the back of his throat.

“Stahp,” Bucky mumbled sleepily.

“My arm, Buck,”

“Hm?”

“You’ve got my arm,”

“Huh?” Bucky sounded slightly more upset than before, as he opened his eyes a peek. Steve’s face was a mix of slight distress but mostly fond. Bucky pushed himself up onto his elbows, allowing Steve to pull free his numb arm. “Better?”

“Yeah,”

“Goin’ back to sleep,” Bucky murmured as he fell back against the bed.

“Just a bit longer,” Steve pressed gently. “Tony wants us all at the tower by five.”

“Wha?”

“Don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, but like,” Bucky rises again to look at the alarm clock on Steve’s side of the bed. “It’s only ten a.m., Steve.”

“Yeah but,” Steve shrugged best he could whilst laying against the pillows. “I thought we’d go for a run, have breakfast and then make our way to Manhattan.”

“Ugh,” Bucky groaned, burying his face into his pillow. “Yeah, okay, um, give me fifteen minutes?”

“Half hours fine, Buck,” Steve pressed a sloppy kiss against his shoulder blade. “Go back to sleep.”

“I am,”

And true to his word, Bucky was out less than a minute later. His breathy snores filled the otherwise silent room. Steve smiled into his pillow, letting his body warm up to the day. He glanced back at the alarm clock before closing his own eyes. A couple more minutes of sleep couldn’t hurt.

X

“Did Stark tell you why every Avenger was needed tonight?” Bucky asked as they jogged in sync. Anya ran between them, her leash loose in Bucky’s grip. Anya made Bucky more at ease, which made Steve more at ease.

“Said something about a start of the season bash,” Steve supplied. Neither super soldier were out of breath, instead running slower so as not to overwork Anya.

“Huh,” Bucky hummed. “Knowing Stark it’ll be quite the bash,”

“Dunno,” Steve wasn’t sure Tony’s only objective was to throw a jaw-dropping party. In fact, “I think he gets lonely,”

“Lonely? He’s got Pepper and Banner there constantly, and all of his machines.”

“I guess so,” Steve agreed. They passed another lit tree as they looped through the park.  They’d be home in approximately ten minutes. Steve had the route well calculated, which had been a necessity months ago when Bucky was moments away from a panic attack. Steve had to know every short cut back to their shared apartment, in the event that Bucky had to get back home. Now, though, Bucky’s panic was more subdued. Not to say it wasn’t there, but that he felt more in control of his own mind. Steve knew Bucky would never be the man he was before the war, before the torture, before HYDRA; but neither would Steve. It was something the pair shared; war trauma, missing decades, loss, heartache, battles. But as long as they moved forward, Steve figured, they’d heal and grow together.

“Oatmeal?” Steve asked a moment later, his stomach grumbling as they got closer to their building.

“Sounds great.”

X

The subway was packed as usual. Steve and Bucky stood side by side, Anya sitting at their feet. Steve could feel Bucky’s tense shoulders and clenched fist as they jostled against one another. Some of Bucky’s new tendencies, Steve had learned, weren’t signs to be immediately worried about. They were warning signs, but mostly they were coping mechanisms or secondary responses. Bucky would probably always be tense on the subway, what with all of the crowds and nowhere to run. Steve would be his safety, though, now until forever. Which wasn’t always consolation to Bucky. Which was why they’d gotten Bucky a service animal.

Several stops later, and approximately 48 minutes later, the subway doors slid open allowing Bucky and Steve to slip out. Anya followed at their heels, allowing Bucky to lead the way. Avenger Tower was obnoxious and easy to spot from a distance. On the streets, though, you had to know the address. Steve’s photographic memory had them make a right, a left after several blocks, and cross the street kiddy-corner, and down several more blocks. The big glass doors sporting the Avenger insignia was soon within sight.

JARVIS scanned the pair as they entered the revolving door, the doorman pressing the private elevator for them. JARVIS took over from there, opening the elevator doors when they arrived on the common room floor. The living space was bustling and happy, everyone chatting amicably. It smelt like gingerbread and eggnog. Pepper spotted them and walked over to give them both a hug.

“Welcome, boys,” she smiled brightly, her hair pulled back in her generic ponytail.

“It’s a pleasure,” Bucky replied, his smile looking genuine to Steve. His body language assured Steve that he felt safe and comfortable.

“Looks like everyone’s here,” Pepper spoke to the group at large. “I’ll tell Tony to head up. He’s been hiding in his lab all weekend.”

“What’s new,” Clint teased.

“But, everyone, please, just go along with what Tony pitches tonight, alright?” Pepper wrung her hands. “Tony gets kind of lonely - ” While Pepper held out the vowels of her words, Steve shot Bucky a smug smile. “And he’s really excited.”

“Oh god,” Maria makes a face. “How come I already know I’m not going to like this?”

“I promise it’s nothing bad,” Pepper assured the group. “Just… might seem a little farfetched for a bunch of super heroes.” As the elevator dinged a moment later, Pepper made frantic hand gestures, and everyone tried to ease back into conversations.

The elevator doors opened, spitting out none other than Tony Stark. He pranced into the common area, grabbing the champagne bottle Pepper offered him.

“Hey, guys,” Tony’s voice boomed as always, his mere presence filling the room; as if his personality alone was larger than life.

“Hey buddy,” Rhodey him, patting him on the back several times.

“Glad you could make it,” He tells Rhodey sincerely, his face displaying more emotion than he usually allows out. “Clint, buddy!”

“Hey, you sonofabitch,” Clint chuckles, taking another swig of his own champagne flute.

“Dr. Foster, how are you?” Tony’s making his rounds, ever the host.

Sam’s telling Steve and Bucky about his flight in from D.C., when Tony joins their conversation.

“Your accommodations were alright?” Tony asks Sam. “Your guest floor in the Tower look okay?” Sam laughs.

“It’s all great, Tony,” Sam admits. “But I told you it’s almost more than I can accept.”

“Almost, huh?” Tony scratches his forehead, and Sam laughs again.

“Just wish I knew why I had to take an emergency flight to Manhattan on Stark Airlines,”

“Yeah, I’m wondering the same thing,” Steve says.

“Well, funny you should ask. Hey, uh, Pepper,” Tony calls over his shoulder. “Did you grab those papers I had JARVIS print off in your office?”

“Yeah, right over there,” Pepper pointed at a little wicker basket sitting on the coffee table.

“Hey, everyone,” Tony walked over to the basket, picking it up and shaking the contents. “I had an idea, thought it’d be fun to do something actually festive this Christmas season,” he shrugged. “Uh, I had JARVIS run a little algorithm, matching everyone up to another member of the team.” He shook the basket contents up again. “Everyone’s got a paper in here with their name on the front, and the name of someone else hidden inside the seal. Nobody’s seen the inside, except JARVIS,”

“ _That is correct, sir_ ,”

“Anyone ever done Secret Santa?”

“Yeah, the science club did one every year in high school,” Jane looks really excited, a big smile across her face.

“See, festive,” Tony dropped the basket back onto the table.

“Secret Santa?” Bucky asked, an eyebrow raised.

“God, I forgot we’ve got some old fogies in the mix,” Tony sighed.

“I, too, am unaware of this Secret Santa tradition,” Steve still had a hard time getting used to Thor dressed in civilian clothes, no matter how often he saw it. He wore a big red and black checkered wool jacket, black jeans and a pair of snow boots. Steve knew Jane dressed him, and helped him braid segments of his long hair when he visited Earth.

“It’s simple,” Jane started. “You secretly buy a gift for whomever you’ve been assigned. In the end, everyone exchanges gifts,”

“You’re someone’s ‘Secret Santa’,” Pepper adds.

“Interesting,” Natasha commented, reaching for the basket first, fishing around for her name. She retrieved hers, broke the seal, and kept a blank face as she read the name hidden inside. “Yes, this will be fun,” she nodded her head, closing the paper and slipping it into her jacket pocket.

The basket got passed around, everyone making excited and worried comments about the person they’d been assigned.

“Ugh, why, JARVIS, why?” Sam moaned after reading his. Bucky leaned over, hoping to catch a glimpse of the contents, but Sam quick balled up the paper.

“ _The names were randomly generated_ ,”

“I understand that!” Sam huffed. “But this is going to be difficult.”

“I’m excited for the challenge,” Pepper said, refolding her own paper neatly. “You just have to be creative.”

“Really, really creative,” Sam agreed.

Steve, though, felt alright about his. Steve knew he wasn’t the best gift giver—since he really didn’t have any experience at all—but Sam would be the easiest one out of the group to buy for. He could get him socks, a new pair of shoes, or a case of his favorite beer.

Mostly though, Steve was, admittedly, eager to pry Bucky’s recipient out of him later that evening.


	2. I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

Chapter Two – I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

It was the first snowfall of the season, giant thick flakes falling from the sky and collecting on everything. The streets were slushy and black, car exhaust mucking up perfectly new snowfall. The sidewalks had footprints staining the walkway. But the schoolyard was a winter wonderland for the young children. The field behind the school was covered in the snow that had been piling up all through the morning and afternoon. When the bell finally rang to end the school day, the children rushed the play grounds. Cheering could be heard from inside the building, as boys and girls alike bundled up in holey coats and ratty scarves. Middle class children had mittens and hats, and the girls wore thicker socks. Steve Rogers however, shook like a leaf from inside his old coat.

He spotted Becca and Ruth Barnes with a group of girls falling to the ground to make snow angels nearby. He squinted best he could to try and make out the figures farther off. His poor eye sight made it nearly difficult to spot anything at all.

Steve nearly fell over as someone brushed past him in a whirl. He teetered, turning to find who the attacker was. He couldn’t help the slightly annoyed glance that crossed his face as his eyes landed upon his best friend Bucky.

“Buck,” Steve grumbled.

“Sorry, pal,” Bucky grinned, bouncing from foot to foot. “Can you believe all this snow? I couldn’t concentrate all morning!” Bucky was top of his class; excelling in math, reading two grades above his level, the teachers’ pet. Steve watched him do his multiplication problems in one minute flat. He tutored two of his younger sisters, and was teaching Francie to read at only three years old.

“It’s too cold,” Steve was positively pouting now, which only made Bucky’s grin grow.

“Ah, come on, Stevie,” Steve’s glare only deepened at what he thought was a very childish nickname. It wasn’t something any nine year old wanted to be called at school. “It’s the first snowfall!” Steve didn’t lighten up.

Suddenly, Bucky was leaning down, packing snow together. In moments a perfectly compacted snowball hit Steve square in the chest.

“Hey!”

Bucky only knelt down and tossed another snowball at Steve’s tense shoulders.

“Cut it out!”

“Make me!” Bucky called back, turning and throwing another snowball soaring at Don Jones.

Steve took a moment to collect his bearings, as Bucky got involved in a snowball war with his other classmates. Steve momentarily considered going to help Becca and Ruth with their snowman family. As he turned to walk over to the girls, another snowball hit him from behind.

“This means war!” He heard Bucky yell, as if they hadn’t already been pelting each other. “Come join my team, Steve!”

“I don’t - ”

“Scared, Rogers?” Billy Allen teased, which was really nine-year-old Steve Rogers breaking point.

“No, ‘cause Bucky and I are gonna beat you ‘til you’re frozen!” Steve yelled back, and Bucky whooped in excitement.

Steve’s still shaking like a frozen baby animal, but now he’s a frozen baby animal packing snowballs. He gets hit twice before he’s able to toss a snowball back at Billy. Bucky gets in three hits before Steve weakly throws one.

Twenty minutes later, both sides have bigger teams, boys and girls alike joining in on the fight. They’ve also decided to make forts to hide behind, and trenches to keep their snowballs in. Bucky’s calling out orders, but he always turns to see if Steve agrees. Steve usually does, offering a strategic move every once in a while. Steve and Ruth are working together, easily the two slowest snow packers on the team. No one seems to mind, though Steve thinks that might have something to do with their fear of Bucky’s retaliation.

“Is this enough, Bucky?” Ruth looks up to her big brother, stars in her eyes.

“No, we want to win don’t we? And the wall has to be a lot taller, Ernest!”

The team scrambled to finish the tasks to Bucky’s standard, when suddenly a snowball comes soaring over their wall, hitting Becca in the head. She screams loudly and dramatically, looking over at Bucky with anger in her eyes. Bucky hides his smile behind a hand, before yelling, “This means war!” as if all the children weren’t already preparing for the upcoming battle.

Snowballs sailed back and forth, hitting children and snow forts alike. Steve tried his best to avoid getting hit, but to no avail. Snow fell down his coat, freezing his skin.

Bucky on the other hand is tossing snowballs quicker than he can pick them up. He’s got a huge smile, his aim perfect.

“No fair!” Billy Allen’s calling from the other side, which causes Bucky to laugh.

“I think we’ve won, guys,” Bucky says confidently. “Do you forfeit?” Bucky calls over to the other team captain.

“We’re out of snow balls!” Billy calls back.

“Then we win!” They all cheer, jumping up and down in their snow bank.

“That means you can help us finish our snow family, Buck!” Ruth tugs at the hem of Bucky’s coat.

“Yeah, ‘cause we fought so good for you!” Becca adds.

“I guess so,” Bucky smiles, grabbing Steve’s arm and pulling him along.

X

Brooklyn, New York in 2015 is both vastly different and exactly the same as Brooklyn, New York in 1929. Steve can’t explain it, even if he tried. He thinks, though, that it’s most likely attributed to the familiar street names, still standing buildings, the bridge, and community of so many different cultures. It might also have something to do with having Bucky Barnes glued to his side; the only thing that hasn’t changed at all.

Steve stands over the stove, frying eggs for breakfast, when Bucky comes bursting into the room.

“Steve, it’s snowing!” Steve hasn’t seen Bucky this excited in ages, his eyes big and full of childlike joy.

“It is?” Steve glances out the window, and back over to Bucky. “You never seen snow before?” He teases, and Bucky just fixes him with a look.

“I happen to love snow,” Bucky says, which is absolutely true. He always had. When the Commando’s trudged through feet of it in Europe, shivering half to death, Bucky had been humming Christmas carols under his breath, both irritating and calming the other Commando’s. Which was Bucky in a nut shell.

“Wanna go out in it?” Steve suggests, and Bucky seems to consider the idea for the first time.

“And do what? Roll around in it?”

Sam had told Steve to allow Bucky the joy of simplicity, to indulge him in any activity no matter how small. This had been impossibly hard a year and a half ago. This had started with Steve suggesting seemingly tedious activities, softly nudging Bucky to do the same.

“Why not?”

Bucky was quiet, and Steve let him be.

Several minutes passed before Bucky seemed to gather his thoughts, and possibly his memories.

“Maybe we should just walk in it,”

“Yeah, that sounds nice, Buck,” Steve smiled, his chest growing warm.

The pair wrap up in scarves, coats and hats, shoving hands into gloves. The streets are ever crowded, the snow not stopping the troves of people bustling about. The walk side by side, Steve bumping his shoulder against Bucky from time to time, just feel their body’s touch. Steve can feel the cold, wet flakes hit his nose, and melt against his eyelashes. Bucky’s got them collecting in his hair peeking from beneath his hat.

They aimlessly make their way to their favorite park. Bucky leads them to a bench, taking a seat on the cold, wet, wood.

Steve wants so badly to ask him if he remembered, if that was what caused the excitement. He’s long since learned that it’s better to let Bucky say if he remembers, rather than to press and ask himself. It can be frustrating, but triggering Bucky is the last thing Steve wants.

“It feels familiar,” Bucky says, then, as if he was reading Steve’s mind. “I like that there’s a purpose to the cold,” he adds.

Last winter, Bucky’s first winter as himself, had been scary. The cold triggered Bucky, and lead them to spend months inside with the heat cranked up. To Bucky, It had felt like missions in Russia, unthawing, and a million successful assassinations. Steve wasn’t entirely sure that winter didn’t still feel like this for Bucky in some ways.

Some days Steve wanted to pack Bucky up and move them to the Ecuador.

“It sure is beautiful,” Steve agreed, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck. Sometimes the cold still felt like crashing Schmidt’s plane into the Atlantic. Every chilling intake of breath the icy water that filled his lungs.

“I figure it’s familiar like nearly everything here in Brooklyn is,” Bucky turns to look at Steve, obviously searching his eyes for something.

“Yeah,” Steve just nods.

“But somehow it feels…” Bucky’s voice trails off.

Steve waits.

“It feels,” Bucky huffs. “I guess it’d be easier to say that it doesn’t feel as heavy and awful as everything else always does.” Steve feels a very wistful, bittersweet smile spread across his own face.

“We loved the snow growing up,” Steve supplies, always unsure how to much to give away.

“Back when you were smaller?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “Back before I worried you half to death,”

“The pneumonia?”

“You remember that?”

“A little. Mostly, I remember you telling me about it,”

“That’s good, too, Buck,” Steve assures him.

“What’d we do in it?”

“In the snow?” When Bucky nods, Steve continues, “We’d play in it; make balls and throw them at each other, build snow people, roll around in it.” Bucky looks bewildered.

“And we liked it?” Steve laughs.

“Oh yeah, we loved it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thank you for coming back for the second installment. If you have a second, let me know what you think so far. I'm having a lot of fun with this story, and almost have the entire thing finished.
> 
> If you have any suggestions for what one Avenger might gift another Avenger, let me know! Most of the gifts aren't set in stone just yet.
> 
> Thanks again, see you in two days!


	3. Deck the Halls

Chapter Three – Deck the Halls

“Honestly, what’s the fuss?”

“I just think it’d be fun!”

“Fun? Putting up a dead tree sounds fun?”

“It’s not like that, Buck! You decorate it,”

“I don’t know,”

“Come on, Buck,”

“I said I don’t know,”

Bucky left the room, stalking into their bedroom, and closing the door. This was at least the third time they’d argued over the subject. Steve wanted to decorate their apartment for the holidays, and Bucky was less than interested. Bucky claimed he didn’t see the point in making a commotion over just another day. Which was why Steve was digging his heels in; he didn’t want to live life like that anymore.

 

After an argument, Steve always lets Bucky have his space. While Bucky hides in their bedroom, Steve runs down to the corner market. It’s older, the tile chipping, wallpaper peeling, and bakery cases yellowed and foggy. It has its charm, though, in Steve’s opinion; the establishment is owned by a close-knit family, the prices are unbeatable, and they sell local goods. Steve fills his cart with milk, his favorite sugar cereal, eggs, bread, Bucky’s favorite tea, and a box of oranges. He chats with the cashier for a moment, catching up on her children. (When they’d met, she was due to have her third child in just a couple of weeks. Now, her baby had just turned one. Steve’s long decided that the passing of time isn’t always a bad thing.) Steve’s finally able to leave when a line beings accumulating.

The walk back is less than ten minutes, and when he pushes the front door of their apartment open, he’s met with Bucky sitting on their couch.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says immediately, placing his paper bags onto the floor.

“Me too,”

“Do you want to talk?”

“I guess I just don’t understand why this is so important to you,” Bucky admits.

“Buck, it’s just,” Steve stops, unsure how to put his thoughts into words. After he’d woken up in the wrong century, every person he’d ever loved gone, everything felt so heavy and pointless. When Bucky came back into his life, Steve had been happier than he’d ever remembered being. Not even happy, he’d felt his chest loosen. Being with Bucky was more than being happy, it quieted the demons that sung in his chest. In those first months, though, Steve had been in survival mode. What did Bucky need? What would get them through the next twenty-four hours? Steve didn’t want to live on autopilot anymore, didn’t want to go through the motions; just didn’t want. “Being here, in this century with you is a miracle. Things are finally okay and happy. I mean, we couldn’t afford to decorate in 1935.”

Bucky’s facial expression changed.

“But your ma, Buck, she always hung garland. And each of you had a stocking at the foot of your bed,” Steve sighs. “And the tree always had tinsel on it.”

“I remember,” Bucky starts. “The tree in my memory has a distinct smell.”

“It was always a real tree,”

“I-” Bucky stops. “If that’s important to you,”

“I don’t want it if you don’t, Buck,”

“I’ll think about it,” Bucky doesn’t get up and walk away this time, so Steve considers it a success.

 

Steve hasn’t decorated a Christmas tree since the 1930’s. Helping Tony carry some out of storage while staying at Avenger Tower doesn’t count. This, driving a borrowed Stark Industries vehicle, the cityscape thinning outside their windows, Bucky in the passenger seat, this was what the Christmas season felt like growing up. It was about the people, firstly, and the traditions, secondly. Steve’s apartment with his ma hadn’t been extravagantly dressed up during the holidays. Steve figured that most people aside from Howard Stark had the money to decorate the way people did in the twenty first century. They’d had pinecones they’d collected around the park, and tinsel, and one year they’d had a little bit of mistletoe. It was the Barnes’ home that transformed. They had little decoration, but somehow the place felt much cheerier.

After Bucky had agreed, Steve had rushed back to the corner market, purchasing the decorations that felt the most like home. That meant tinsel, beaded garland, red ribbon, and single colored ornament balls.

The radio was playing a Christmas channel. Songs that every child in this decade knew filled the car. The jingling bells, and Santa ‘ho-ho-ho’s the only familiar song. Bucky still hadn’t fiddled enough to find the ‘oldies Christmas channel’ as it was called today.

The nearest place Christmas tree farm was several miles outside the city. As they got farther and farther out of the city, Bucky opened the sun roof. The December was cold, but not unwelcome. Both were bundled up, ready to trudge through the snow to find the perfect tree to bring home. They had bungee-cords and rope to tie the tree to the top of the car.

They don’t really talk, but hum to the music, listen to the air rushing past them, and exchange smiles. Having Bucky beside him is enough. He never really thought he’d ever get enjoy these little moments with Bucky. Not after Bucky was drafted, nor during their time with the Commandos, and certainly not a year and a half ago. This is all he’s ever wanted, though.

 

They make it to the farm within the hour, jumping out of the car and stretching their legs. Bucky takes in a deep breath, holding it in his lungs for several seconds, before letting it back out. He does this a couple more times, smiling over at Steve when he’s finished.

“You okay?” Steve asks, already knowing the question.

“Hate small spaces,” Bucky shrugs, walking over to the entrance of the farm.

The lot is a Christmas wonderland. As they walk under the arched entrance, Steve’s hit with the smell of a hundred fir trees. It smells fresh, and familiar. It sparks something in his chest he isn’t completely sure of, but it causes him to reach out instinctively and place a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Maybe it’s gratitude, maybe it’s ‘the Christmas spirit’, or maybe—most likely—it’s just happiness. Joy to be not only alive, but truly living.

“The air’s a lot fresher than in the city,” Bucky comments a moment later. “I feel like I can actually breathe.”

Steve smiles. “Yeah, me too. You thinkin’ about moving out here?” Steve’s only teasing, but Bucky still gives him an incredulous look.

“I’d never live out here! I’d never live anywhere on earth but Brooklyn,” Bucky pauses. “I knew it then in 1941, and I know it now.”

“I agree, Buck,”

 

They rent an axe and other necessary tools from the farm owners, before trudging up a snowy hill and into the forest. There are hundreds of differing sized trees; some tall, some short and fat, some lean, some sparse. Steve saw several trees he’d be happy to take home, but Bucky kept walking. Steve had been the one to press and prod Bucky into this, and in the spirit of compromise, wanted Bucky to choose the tree.

They wandered around still, Bucky’s facial features not giving anything away. Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky had spotted anything yet, was just enjoying the open air, or was still dissatisfied. Steve didn’t mind though, the thick blanket of snow was crunchy under foot, the sun peeked through the clouds, and his lungs felt full. Having Bucky beside him wasn’t half bad, either.

“That one,” Steve didn’t register what Bucky had said immediately, suddenly surprised. “I like this one. Wadda ya think, Stevie?”

The tree standing in front of them was about their height, extremely wide and full. Snow sat against its limbs, and it had a perfect top branch for a star.

“It’s perfect,” Steve agreed.

Together they hacked the tree down, following the instructions they’d been given. It made a loud thud as it fell onto the snow covered ground. They heft into their shoulders, Steve leading, and Bucky right behind him. The walk back feels longer with the added weight. Neither say a word as they walk, the only sound of the squirrels, chirping birds, and whistling wind.

At the makeshift register, there are bunches of mistletoe strung to red ribbon. Steve quickly adds it to their receipt, glancing at Bucky briefly. Bucky’s got a small smile poking at his lips, and Steve has to try and hide his own. He figures they can hang it over their bedroom door, or the arch over their kitchen doorway. Or maybe above their front door, so every time they enter and exit the apartment they’ll be forced to glance up and share a kiss. Steve feels incredibly cliché, but also bubbling with happiness.

Tying the tree to the top of the car is only slightly difficult. In their defense, it’s something they’ve never done before.

“No, tie it like this,”

“How is that going to make it stay?”

“We need another cord!”

“It’s going to crush the tree!”

“Do you want it to fly off the car?”

“That’d be hilarious,”

 

They drive back in comfortable silence. Bucky’s got his eyes closed for the majority of the trip. Steve’s nearly positive he falls asleep along the way.

Steve was excited to get the tree inside their apartment. Living on the fifth floor made it a little difficult, though.

“You want to go backwards?” Steve asks.

“Why’s somebody gotta go backwards?”

“Well, if you’re in the front-”

“I’ll just hold it up on my shoulder, and walk forwards.”

“Okay,”

Together they lift it up, and make their way up five flights of stairs. Steve can’t help but smile the whole way up. His chest feels really full and warm. It’s a familiar feeling, in this century; Bucky’s smile, and progress, and their late night conversations, and hugging Natasha, or taking her for a long drive, or when Sam comes into town unexpectedly. He never thought he’d have a chance at life again, nevermind a life this fulfilling.

They set the tree up in front of their living room window. They take turns standing on the other side of the room, trying to make it as center as possible. Once they’re sure they’ve got it perfect, Steve opens a closet door, and pulls out paper bag of decorations.

“What’s all this?”

“Just a couple things I found,” Steve wanted to keep it simple. And he knew that Bucky would appreciate it as well.

Bucky reached into the bag, pulling out the beaded garland. Wordlessly, he laid it against the branches, wrapping it around the body of the tree. Steve followed his lead, grabbing the package of ornament balls. Steve had picked out a pack with an ornament for each color of the rainbow. It wasn’t necessarily Christmas themed, but it was bright. He put on the red, and the orange, before Bucky reached into the box and grabbed an ornament of his own. The red ribbon were already tied into bows, their elastic band backs easily slipping onto the branches.

The tinsel had been Steve’s favorite part in 1930, and every year after. Bucky had always left out a couple strands for Steve from the Barnes’ family tree, hiding them in his bedroom. It was exciting to throw it against the branches, and watch it catch somewhere. This tinsel sparkled, glistening where it sat on their tree. Steve fully admitted he loved their Christmas tree already.

“It’s missing something,” Steve’s hanging the last of the tinsel, giving the tree a once over, completely unsure of what Bucky thinks the tree is lacking.

“What?”

“Really?”

“Yes, I really don’t know what’s missing,” Steve clarifies.

“A star,” Bucky raises his eyebrows, widening his eyes.

“Oh no!” Bucky snorts.

“You forgot a star?”

“Yes! I was going for simple!”

“That’s kind of a main part, even I know that.”

 

An hour, another trip down to the corner market, getting recognized and stopped two blocks from home, and a five floor flight of stairs later, Steve and Bucky are finally placing the star atop their tree. It’s glittery, and really huge, and absolutely perfect if you ask Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited to publish another chapter! I hope you enjoy this one, and if you have a second, please take a moment to let me know what you think so far.


	4. Winter Wonderland

Chapter Four – Winter Wonderland

Natasha wasn’t an easy person to spot. She was invisible, and only findable if she wanted to be. Despite having a head of vibrant auburn hair, she was amazing at blending into crowds. Steve didn’t think she meant to constantly hide. She was just naturally stealthy and illusive. So instead of searching for her at the skating rink, Steve and Bucky sat on a bench by the entrance, lacing up their rental skates.

“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Steve confesses, adverting Bucky’s eyes.

“Oh yeah, and why’s that?”

“Not much of a skater,”

“That’s why it’ll be so much fun,” Natasha’s suddenly within eyesight, a wool, grey hat pulled down to her eyebrows. Steve must still look unsure, since Bucky lays a gentle hand on his thigh.

“Come on, Stevie, I’ll hold your hand,” Bucky’s voice suggests he’s teasing, but his face is reassuring.

“And then I’ll pull us both down.” Steve sighs.

“Maybe I should get a video of this,” there’s mirth dancing in her eyes. “Two super soldiers crashing on the ice. Maybe it’ll go viral,”

“Ha ha,”

“Come on, boys,” Natasha leads the way, Bucky helping Steve to his feet. “What’s Christmas without a little figure skating?”

“Probably really great,”

Natasha takes one step onto the ice, then another, pushing herself forward. She spins halfway, facing Steve and Bucky, gesturing for them to follow her. People whirl past her, though her focus is on Steve, the front of her skate wedged into the ice. She’s got a hand on her hip, and a look of impatience across her features.

“I’m not getting any younger,” she calls out.

“We might be,” Bucky says with a shrug.

“You never know,” Steve agrees. Natasha only rolls her eyes.

It really is as terrible as Steve imagines it will be. One step onto the ice, and his feet don’t stay underneath him. He flails and falls to the ground before Bucky can even attempt to pull him back up. He hits the ice hard, causing snickers to erupt from the crowds. His cheeks stain red.

“Help me,” he whines, and Bucky reaches down to pull him back up, a hidden smile peeking at his lips. “Yeah, yeah, ha ha, Buck,”

“I’m sorry, pal” Bucky wheezes, which causes a full snort from Natasha. Her hand is cupped around her mouth, hiding her face.

Steve’s features are frozen in a hard glare, as he looks between the two. He feels absolutely foolish, as he’s unable to even stand up straight. His feet are wobbling, and he’s holding onto Bucky’s hand as tight as he can.

“This is ridiculous,” Steve huffs.

“What? Captain America can save the world, but can’t ice skate?” Natasha looks positively gleeful.

“I’ve never skated before,” Steve defends himself.

“True. This punk was _saving the world_ since he learned to punch,” Bucky’s eyes were alight with laughter, obviously prompted by Natasha’s energy. Natasha can’t hold it in at that, a full laugh shaking her body. Bucky laughs aloud, too.

“Real funny you two,”

“I’m just a bit shocked is all,” Natasha is a trained spy, able to manipulate and lie her way in and out of any situation. When Steve is able to tell that she is lying, he knows the situation is bad.

“You knew I wouldn’t be any good!”

“Hey, I-”

“You invited me to come, because you _knew_ I’d be bad at this!”

Natasha can only laugh and shrug.

“I can’t believe -”

“I’m glad she had the foresight,” Bucky cuts in. “I’m thoroughly enjoying this.”

“I bet you are,” Steve’s still wobbling. “Maybe I’ll just watch from - ”

“No way!” Natasha protests.

“You haven’t even given it a fair shot yet,” Bucky adds. “Come on, I’ll lead,”

Bucky pulls him along, trying to balance both of them. It was useless, though, since Bucky wasn’t able to hold up a flailing super soldier. Steve fell once more, this time landing with a thud onto his ass. Natasha attempted once more to hide her laugh.

“Yeah, this isn’t working out,” Steve grumbled.

“Well, you’re already this far out,” Bucky countered. “You’d have to skate to get off.”

“I think I’ll just crawl back,”

“This I’d love to see,” Natasha says.

“You’re not crawling back, Steve,” Bucky gestures for Natasha to come closer. “Come help me,”

With Natasha on one side of Steve, and Bucky on the other, Steve has a much easier time moving across the ice. They deliberately steer Steve away from the exit. Natasha tells him to pick his feet up, rather than shuffle them against the ice. This helps a little.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Steve admits nearly twenty minutes later.

“Thank god,” Natasha mutters, clearly struggling to hold up Steve’s weight.

She lets go, and Bucky eases away slowly. Both hold their breath, watching to see if Steve can stay up. He wobbles for a moment, but doesn’t fall. He picks his feet up and moves several steps.

“Why he looks awful,” Bucky murmurs to Natasha, who snorts.

“That’s putting it lightly,”

“It’s funny,” Bucky starts. “I knew this would a disaster the moment you suggested it.”

“You any good at skating, Barnes?”

“I’m not sure,” Bucky shrugs. “I don’t remember either way.”

“Only one way to find out.”

Steve continues his little march, turning around a hair’s length to look at Bucky and Natasha. To his dismiss, neither are behind him anymore. Instead, he’s been abandoned in the middle of the rink.

“Hey!”

It turns out, Bucky isn’t half bad at skating. It’s easy to push one foot in front of the other, propelling forward. He bends his knees and leans forward, sliding faster than before. Natasha stands tall beside him, her movements bigger and grander. She spins around, now pushing herself backwards. She’s a couple feet in front of him, facing him, a pleased smile spread across her face.

“And what did you guess about my skating skills?” Bucky calls to her.

“I knew you’d surprise me,” Her voice is gentle.

“Race you?” Natasha laughs.

“Only if you’re ready to lose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Another installment, this time with Natasha.
> 
> Wanna come chat with me about Natasha, and Bucky, and Steve?
> 
> And if you have a second, let me know what you think in a comment.


	5. Tis' the Season

Chapter 5 – Tis The Season

Bucky could feel Steve’s shoulder brush against his with every nearly step the pair took. It felt constant and comforting. Steve was humming something under his breath, glancing over at Bucky every couple of steps. Buddy stood tall and proud, and Bucky couldn’t help but lean down to rub the top of his head. No matter how many times he was told to follow the rules with Buddy, he couldn’t help but give him physical affection. Bucky knew he’d have to reward Buddy with someone come Christmas morning.

Each store window they passed was decorated for the holiday season. Lighted trees and wrapped boxes were beside big red signs that boasted of twenty percent sales. It had been Steve’s idea to get out and look around. Bucky already knew he wasn’t going to find anything to gift Natasha. She was mysterious, yet kind; quiet, yet friendly; frightening, yet surprisingly gentle, and there wasn’t anything in all of Brooklyn to purchase someone like that.

“See anything yet, Buck?”

“Nope,” Steve fixes him with a look, which Bucky reads as, _don’t be so stubborn_. “I’m not getting Natasha a _purse_.”

“Well you better think of something,” Steve says.

“Okay.” and then, “What’re you getting Wilson?”

“I was thinking a pair of socks, or gloves,”

“What?” Bucky’s shocked. “Socks? Really, Steve?”

“What’s wrong with socks? It’s getting cold! They’re practical.”

“Yeah, but, think of what everyone else will be gifting,” Bucky can just picture it now. Tony will gift a one of a kind car, Pepper will contribute a signed copy of something, and Thor will have some precious Asgardian artifact.

“What ideas have you got?”

“Nothing yet,” Bucky admits. “But definitely not socks.”

They continued walking, Steve still looking into every store window. He’d make comments now and again, ones that Bucky mostly ignored.

Half an hour later, Steve led Bucky into a corner coffee shop and bakery. The pair peered into the glass cases, examining each baked good. There were far more options than Bucky would’ve ever imagined growing up. There were personal cakes, breads, muffins, pastries, and single pies of every flavor. They let a businessman, a young couple, and a group of gaggling teenagers go before them, choosing instead to examine each choice. Bucky valued choices now more than ever.

They chose to settle into a little booth in the back of the shop, sunlight streaming across the table from the window shop front. Bucky’s black coffee steamed in swirls above their heads, while Steve’s caramel something-or-other chilled. Steve loved the coffee of the twenty-first century. Bucky, on the other hand, preferred the drinks of his past. Steve finished his blueberry muffin in three bites, while Bucky savored his cinnamon roll.

“What about jewelry?” Steve suggests sometime later. “For Nat,” he specifies.

“Like what?”

“A necklace, or a watch,”

“I don’t think so,” Bucky smiles at Steve. “It’s okay, I’ll come up with something. There’s still weeks before Christmas.”

They wander into an antique shop later that evening, as the sun is setting over Brooklyn. There are shelves and tables stacked high with preserved pieces of history. Bucky spots tea cups, books, rings, glass coke bottles, dinnerware, brooches. There’s table cloths, porcelain dolls, and license plates. A typewriter is set atop a pile of faded books. The place smells like parchment.

“Maybe you’ll find something in here,” Steve sounds so hopeful. Bucky doesn’t want to disappoint Steve, but he feels no more inspired than he has been all day.

As he leads Anya through the shop, her sweet nose nuzzling Bucky as they go, he finds something that instantly catches his eye. Sitting amidst a pile of tattered books is a vinyl record. Bucky reaches for it, and feels something in his chest tighten. The corners of the cardboard packaging are completely frayed. And Bucky had never owned this exact album, but the faces on the front are so familiar it hurts. Ella Fitzgerald, Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole, Billie Holiday, Louis Armstrong, Dooley Wilson, Vera Lynn, Tommy Dorsey, Glenn Miller; these musicians had taught Bucky how to dance, how to fall in love, how to forget about your heart ache in a dance, how to connect with little sisters, how to say goodbye, how to love someone so much it ached. The album was a collection of the greatest hits of the early 1940’s. The song titles on the back were ones Bucky had swung to in dance halls, songs he’d danced with Becca to on the night some boy broke her heart, songs he’d hummed under his breath at the shipping yard, songs he’d taught Steve to dance to. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the tenth song on the record; the song that had played in their apartment the night before he shipped out. Music had been his love language. It was amazing; he hadn’t thought of these songs since 1945.

Instantly Bucky knew what he’d gift Steve for Christmas. Sure they’d agreed on no gifts, but they’d agreed on no gifts every single year since the 1930s. After two years of Steve getting Bucky something anyway, Bucky had learned his lesson. This would be perfect. Steve had an old record player on a shelf in the apartment. He had collected a couple of records, both old and new. Sam had given him Beyoncé’s newest album, Natasha gave him a rock album from the ‘80s, Tony had even donated a Black Sabbath album, and now Bucky would add to the collection.

It would be the most therapeutic, yet triggering gift Bucky could imagine buying. Some memories would be painful to relive—dancing through the kitchen with Francie’s feet atop his own—and some would be absolutely romantic—dance lessons with Steve before painting class across town.

The biggest problem today, though, would be hiding it from Steve. And the slowly growing ache in his mind, and heart, and lungs. Often times, the past pressed so hard it left bruises.

With haste, Bucky spotted Steve in his peripheral. He was leafing through folded table cloths on the other side of the store.

Bucky approached a young girl wearing an apron with the store’s name printed across. She was restacking children’s books that had previously been knocked over. “Wow, I think that’s Captain America over there,” Bucky did his best to sound impressed and excited. Her head shot up, searching the store.

“What? Where?!”

“That’s definitely him,” Bucky nodded. “That’s so-” Bucky was unable to finish, as the girl had rushed over to ambush Steve. Bucky felt only a little guilty, instead focused on purchasing the album.

Bucky was able to pay for the album, and arrange to pick it up the next morning while Steve was distracted. Steve was graciously answering her questions, even smiling for a picture that Tony had called a selfie. Bucky approached the pair as the girl was thanking him for his support of some community Bucky knew sounded familiar.

“It’s my pleasure,” Steve told her. “I know what it’s like to be afraid to love.”

“You ready to go?” Bucky asks, drawing Steve’s attention away from the young girl.

“You didn’t find anything?”

“There’s a lot to look at, but nothing right for Natasha,”

Steve talked with the girl for a minute or so more. Bucky stood beside Steve, waiting. With each passing second, he felt his calm slowly slip away. This happened sometimes, and Sam said it was okay. This would happen when he was gone too long, when he was stuck inside too long, when he woke up from a bad dream, when the shower water got too cold. Needless to say, it still happened far too often for his liking. Anya must’ve sensed Bucky’s growing discomfort as she whining, and nudging Steve’s calf.

“Well, it was nice meeting you Halie,” God bless Steve, and the marvelously trained Anya. “Continue to be brave, even when it’s hard.” Her eyes looked glossy as she nodded her head, and said goodbye.

As they walked out of the shop, the bell ringing above them, Steve reached over to grasp Bucky’s hand in his own. The streets felt too crowded, and the sudden exposure to a large crowd made Bucky’s panic escalate quickly.

“Any other shops you’d like to visit?”

“Nah, I’m ready to go home,”

They walk in silence, Anya pulling them along. Bucky’s aware of Steve’s nerves; Steve was too much of a worrier. It was difficult to focus on something other than Steve’s rising worry.

Good and bad days, Bucky tries to remember, it’s okay to have good and bad days.

When they finally get home, Steve eases the front door open, leading Bucky in with a hand at the small of his back. He helps Bucky over to their couch, sitting down beside him and leading him in breathing techniques. Bucky isn’t sure how much time passes, just the two of them sitting there, breathing, Steve counting up to ten and then back down to one. Anya is curled up at his side, her head laying in his lap.

What must be hours later, after Bucky’s able to think in his right mind, he asks Steve to brew him a cup of tea. He’s not sure if he ever had tea in the thirties, but he loves tea in the twenty-first century. It’s soothing, and warm. It gives him more options, too; does he want sweet or bitter, honey or earl, milk or sugar?

Anya doesn’t leave his side, though she does lift her head from his lap. She’s quiet, but a good distraction. Bucky busies himself with running his fingers through her fur, and patting the top of her head. She loves it when Bucky strokes her back. When Steve brings him his tea, he sips it in silence, patting Steve’s knee in gratitude.

Soon he’ll crawl into bed, exhaustion too much to bear. He’ll hide underneath the blankets, and count to one hundred. Somewhere in the eighties he’ll fall asleep. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, scared out of his mind, he’ll hear Steve’s snores. That thought alone is comforting enough. The knowledge of what the night holds is comforting. He’ll be okay.

X

The next morning, when he sits down for breakfast—the sound of Steve most likely burning the eggs on the stove, Anya under the table at his feet, the weak winter sun streaming in through the blinds, a warm cup of tea steaming in front of him—he has two thoughts cross his mind.

For one, he absolutely, one hundred percent is certain of what to get for Natasha. Second, there’s absolutely no one he’s going to be able to leave the apartment for the rest of the day.

He’ll have to convince Steve that his idea for Natasha is perfect. It might be a crazy stretch, but he’s had enough conversations with Natasha to know how much this gift will help her. After all, she’s not as bullet-proof as she pretends to be.

And he’ll have to find his Stark Industries phone and ask if Sam could please go pick up the album on hold. Somehow he already knows Sam will. Maybe Sam would like to join them for takeout that night. Steve won’t suspect a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a little bit of plot and substance. I love writing this story, and hope you guys like reading it! If you have a second, let me know what you think.


	6. Snuggled Up Together

Chapter Six – We’re Snuggled Up Together (Like Two Birds of a Feather Would Be)

There’s a knock at the door, and Steve jumps up to answer it. Bucky knows it’s either the pizza delivery guy, or Sam Wilson smuggling in a secret album. Bucky hopes it’s the pizza guy.

True to his word, Bucky hasn’t left the apartment all day. When it was time for their regular morning jog, Bucky insisted that Steve still go. Steve was loyal like a dog; like a dog who won’t leave your side until you smile. They’d spent the day burning cheese sandwhiches, soaking in their bath tub, and sitting out on their fire escape. Which is technically leaving the apartment, but if Bucky doesn’t think about it too hard, his panic doesn’t rise.

The Christmas tree star topper twinkles underneath the illumination of the living room lights. The tinsel also shimmers, it’s branches glittering. Bucky has admitted to Steve that he’s happy about the decorations. He smiled every time they walked through the apartment door.

While Steve’s busy fishing out dollar bills for the delivery guy, Sam slips through the open door, and walks straight towards Bucky. He’s wearing a large coat, though there are four distinct corners visible through the fabric. Bucky hops up from where he’s sitting on the couch, pulling Sam with him towards the bedroom.

“Thank you,” Bucky murmurs, as Sam unzips his coat.

“It’s really not a problem,” Sam smiles easily. “I’m just jealous it’s not for me.” He chuckles, handing the plastic bagged album over to Bucky. Bucky quickly bends over and slides it under the bed.

“Hurry, before Steve notices we’re gone,” Bucky says as he rushes out of the bedroom. Sam has too much patience for two PTSD ridden super soldiers, Bucky thinks not for the first time. His kindness never falters.

“Where’d you go?” Steve’s placing four boxes of pizza onto the coffee table, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I wasn’t sure if you had enough change for a tip,” Bucky fibs. “Went looking for a couple loose dollars.”

“Thanks,” Steve’s got his goofy smile spreading across his face, the one he gives Bucky whenever he does anything remotely thoughtful.

“Yep,” Bucky goes back to his spot on the couch, the spot he’d spent the whole day in. He’s got a crochet afghan across his lap, his legs pulled to his chest.

“We’ve got pepperoni, three meat, supreme, and Sam’s favorite Mediterranean,”

“I always think we’re never going to finish four boxes, and we always somehow do,” Sam’s laughing as he’s dishing up a paper plate. Steve’s grabbing beers from the fridge, laughing, too. This is their tradition when Sam visits from DC. Sam usually brings movies, and they order in takeout. Just as with everything else, it’s the familiarity that Bucky loves. Especially on the harder days. Sam never asks questions, never presses, never acts as if something’s wrong.

“What movies did you bring this time?” Steve asks.

“A couple Christmas classics,”

Movies of the twenty-first century had blown Bucky’s mind. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves had been a cinematic masterpiece in 1937, the art something Steve talked about for months. They’d tried to watch every Disney movie they’d missed, the art in these films even more impressive. All movies were in color in this century, which also shocked Bucky.

“There’s a lot,” Sam opened up his backpack, pulling out DVD cases. “But I figured we could marathon them all night.” That was another amazing quality about Sam—in Bucky’s opinion—he knew how to set Bucky at ease. A movie marathon meant Bucky could relax, and shut off his mind.

“That sounds really nice,” Steve answered for the both of them, after a long glance at Bucky.

They settle onto the couch, Buck’s side pressed against Steve’s. When Steve wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, he lets him.

X

When Mrs. Parker squeezes the little brother into his winter clothing, all three of them laugh and laugh. Steve snorts, which only further stimulates the laughter.

“His face,” Bucky says. “He looks so resigned to it,”

“That’s how my mom was,” Sam wheezes. “Couldn’t go out in December if we weren’t bundled!”

 

Sam can’t stop laughing. “This right here is the very best part of the movie!”

Ralphie Parker is finally getting his revenge on the bully of the film. He jumps onto Farkus, punching and hitting him over and over. All the children scream and cheer, Mrs. Parker eventually breaking up the fight. Steve and Bucky both laugh.

 

Sam quotes along with the film, “You’ll shoot your eye out!”

 

Bucky eats no less than half a pizza during the duration of the film.

 

“I don’t know that I understand all of the jokes,” Steve says when the movie ends. “But that father’s antics were definitely funny.”

X

“Wait a second! You’re telling me that large family forget their son?!” Steve’s exasperated. “He can’t be older than 9!”

“Your ma left you alone at 9 all the time,” Bucky tries to ignore the clench of his heart at the mention and thought of Mrs. Rogers.

“Yeah, but because she had to work a double a couple blocks over! This is different,”

And a little bit later, “She’s just now realizing?!”

 

Sam has adjusted his seating arrangement at least twice per movie. Bucky and Steve, though, are still tucked against one another. Bucky doesn’t have any intentions of moving.

 

As the movie progresses, Steve and Bucky become more and more confused.

“So those two guys,” Steve’s pointing at the television. “Those two guys are trying to rob the house?”

“Yes,” Sam sounds exasperated. “If you’d just listen!”

“I am listening!”

And then half an hour later. “So it’s actually a good thing the kid got left behind?”

“I guess so,” Sam sighs.

 

When Kevin turns the home television on, and sets up the explosion, the three of them can’t help but laugh. Bucky makes Sam rewind and rewatch the scene three times. On the third time, they all chant together, “One, two, ten!”

 

“This kid is hilarious!”

“Thirsty for me?!”

“That’s a good one-liner,”

 

“That was a really sweet ending,”

“He didn’t even tell them what happened?!”

X

“It’s in black and white?!” Steve actually sounds excited. “People still make movies that aren’t in color?”

“Nah, this is an older movie,” Sam chuckles. “But it’s a Christmas classic,”

 

Neither Steve nor Bucky make any comments throughout this film. Steve makes noises in the back of his throat, continuously reacting to the films happy and sad moments. This films the closest to anything they’d ever previously watched. And in a weird way, the message of the movie actually touches Bucky. It’s true, no matter how absolutely horrendous and torturous it was to adjust to this new life, he wouldn’t trade it. Living here in the twenty-first century with Steve was wonderful.

 

“Let him live again,” Steve mumbles under his breath, startling Bucky. He feels a smile bubble against his chest.

 

“They raised the money?!”

“That’s amazing,” Steve blubbers.

_“No man is a failure who has friends.”_

 

“Was this one your favorite?” Sam asks when the credits roll. Bucky’s pretty sure there are tear tracks on Steve’s face.

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

X

An hour later, Steve and Bucky are finally climbing into bed for the night. They’d finished the pizza, had a cup of tea, and said goodbye to Sam.

“Hey Steve,” Bucky murmurs as they’re snuggling underneath the blankets. “I know what you should get Sam for Christmas,”

“What’s that?”

“A Marvin Gaye vinyl record,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet, sappy, and simple chapter for todays update.


	7. Tis' the Season

Chapter Seven – Tis the Season

Unfortunately, recovery doesn’t quite happen the way you wished it would. Nor does it happen the same way day-to-day. Sometimes a panic attack would cause weeks of pain, sadness, and confusion. Other times, Bucky would feel better within hours. Mostly, though, it took a couple days to shake the heaviness that settled into Bucky’s mind and chest. It was aggravating and painful to muddle through. And Steve still tried to coddle him.

“I just think it might be best to stay inside one more day,” Steve says, worry settled into his features.

“Steve, I’m fine,” Bucky did feel fine. Their movie night with Sam the night before had proved that, Bucky thought. He’d been able to be in someone else’s company other than Steve, and he’d been able to somewhat concentrate on the movies.

“I mean, if you feel alright,” Steve’s smiling, but his eyes betray his worry. Bucky knows Steve would never try and control him.

“I do,”

“Alright,” Steve trails into their bedroom, digging through their closet.

“Suit up?” Bucky calls in a teasing voice, and he can just about hear Steve’s eye roll.

Bucky follows behind Steve, who is still rummaging through the closet. Steve’s suit must be way in the back. Captain America is still there when the world needs him, but he does try to avoid routine missions. Bucky, though, actively avoided any missions at all. Sure, he’d cover Steve’s left, but he’d already gone on a revenge mission. After taking out years of pent up anger and grief, Bucky avoided the fighting scene.

This wasn’t a mission, though.

“I’m nervous,” Steve’s voice is muffled, and Bucky barely catches it. He’s sure Steve did that on purpose.

“What’re you nervous about?”

“I’ve never really been good with kids,”

“It’ll be easy. Besides, all you’ve gotta do is smile and wave,”

“If you say so,”

 

They ride the subway, sitting close. Bucky still sometimes finds himself trying to keep Steve warm, as if shielding him from illnesses he can no longer catch. Today, he’s got an arm wrapped around Steve’s shoulders, and Steve’s body snuggled up against his own. Anya is stretched out at their feet, her head down, but eyes alert. Bucky was dressed in his dark suit and vest, per Steve’s insistence. He hoped to blend into the background once they arrived. He’d help pass out the gifts donated by Tony and Pepper, and observe the rest.

He followed Steve’s lead once they arrived at their stop, weaving in and out of people. Despite the huge coat Steve had worn to disguise his suit, people were drawn to the red, white and blue. A five minute walk to the hospital turned into a twenty minute meet and greet, only broken up when Steve and Bucky explained the situation and darted off.

The children’s hospital stood grand and tall. Big glass doors opened into a bright lobby. People were bustling around huge cardboard boxes, Sam Wilson standing in the middle of it all. His glasses sat atop his head, his wings compacted against his back.

“About time,” Sam teased. “We were about to start without you.”

“Without Captain America?” Bucky chuckled. “Yeah right.”

“These boxes just got dropped off,”

“No sign of Tony?”

“Nah, just the delivery guy.”

“He said he wasn’t coming,” Bucky reminds the other two.

“Yeah, but I just,” Steve paused. “Hoped?”

“I don’t think a children’s hospital is the best place for Iron Man,” Bucky says. “Not really his scene.”

“I didn’t think it was mine either,” Steve mumbles.

“I always knew it was.” Sam laughs. “It’s a recipe for success.”

 

Half an hour later, and the three heroes are visiting with a little boy on floor ten. He’s confined to his hospital bed, but Steve had laid his shield in his lap, carefully not applying any pressure.

“This is the shield you used to defeat the red skull?!” The little boys’ eyes are as big as saucers. Bucky still can’t believe there are comic books that tell their stories. All of the details are wrong, and the costumes, and most of the truth, but for some reason they still exist.

“Yeah, it is,” Steve’s smiling down at the little boy.

“And those aliens?”

“Yeah, them too,”

“And your wings can really fly?!” Sam’s also got a big wide smile across his face.

“That’s right,”

Bucky’s holding a wrapped set of action figures, ready to place on the boys night stand before they leave.

 

The little girl in room 410a has a lot of questions to ask, and the kindest smile to offer. Steve’s getting better as they progress from room to room. Now he’s telling stories, bantering with Sam, and asking the kids questions of his own.

Steve is very much the focal point of each visit, every child’s favorite hero. Sam, though, is their rock. Sam picks it up when neither Steve nor Bucky know what to say. Sam introduces them each, and gets the children more comfortable. Bucky knows they couldn’t do it with Sam.

Bucky continues to stand in the back, though. At first it wasn’t a conscious decision, but after several kids looked at his metal hand in fear or disgust, he began hiding behind Steve’s bulky frame.

 

On their second floor, each child has something prepared for them. There are paper snowflakes with letters written on the back, and little snowmen paintings. There are also paper shields of all sizes. Steve keeps every single one, promising to hang them up at home. Bucky knows he will.

 

Some kids cry when Steve hands them their gift, others scream, and only little boy starts dancing. Each time, though, it makes something in Bucky’s chest ache. He’s grateful to be in each room, each time it happens.

 

After nearly two hours and four floors of hospital rooms, they’re down to their last box of presents.

“I’ve never worn the suit to something like this,” Steve says. “And it’s really starting to itch.”

“Breaking news,” Sam jokes. “Captain America’s suit gives him a rash!”

“You trying wearing it!”

“Maybe someday I will,”

They push open one of the last doors, finding a little girl sitting in her wheelchair, peering out her window.

“Hey there,” Sam starts, as he has all afternoon. “Merry Christmas!” She turns around, her eyes wide and watery.

“They told me you were coming, but I didn’t believe them,” she whispers, as if she’s trying to protect the moment.

“We wanted to come and wish you a happy holiday,” Steve tells her. “I’m Steve Rogers,” he’s got his helmet off, and his blonde hair is all ruffled up. His blue eyes are kind and gentle. He may be wearing the suit, Bucky thought, but underneath it all he was Steve Rogers. He always had been. “This is my friend Sam Wilson, and my very best friend Bucky Barnes. What’s your name?”

“Sarah,”

“What do you like to do for fun, Sarah?” Sam asks.

“I like to paint,”

“So do I,” Steve beams. “I like to paint people,”

“Me too,”

Steve and Sam continue to converse with Sarah, while Bucky looks around the room. She’s got several bouquets of flowers around the room, and obvious child paintings hung up. There’s a family picture set up on her table, and a basket of fruit. She’s got a pile of stuffed animals on her bed. There’s a large window that overlooks the courtyard. The room was bright and happy.

“We match!” The girl exclaims excitedly, shocking Bucky back into the conversation. All three sets of eyes are trained him, though he’s absolutely unsure why.

“Huh?”

“We match!” She says again, pulling up her pajama pant leg. Her left leg is a prosthetic. It bares similarity, Bucky realizes, with his metal arm.

“We do, don’t we?” Bucky smiles, feeling his earlier nervousness and guilt wash away.

“Are you sick?”

“No,” Bucky searches for the right words. “I was in an accident.”

“Me too! Does your hurt?”

“Not anymore,” Bucky’s speaking gently, afraid of something he can’t place.

“Me neither. But it’s still hard to walk.” She looks down. “That’s why I’m in this wheelchair.”

“Well it’s really cool,” Bucky tells her. “And I think you’re really brave.” He’s not sure where the words come from, but they feel right.

“You really think so?”

“I do,”

Bucky hands her the gift then; a wrapped box of books. She peels the wrapping away gently, taking time to carefully place the bow atop her head.

“Thank you!” She exclaims, as she opens up the box. “I love mysteries!”

“It was really nice meeting you,” Steve tells her then. “And we hope you have a happy holiday.”

“I will!” She smiles. “Thank you, Bucky,” she says then. “I think you’re brave, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late, but here nonetheless. The schedule will remain every other day, so we'll be on even day updates now, instead of odd days.
> 
> Thank you for reading. I hope you are enjoying so far! Let me know what you think in a comment, please.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you stick around for the following chapters.
> 
> If you have any thoughts on Secret Santa gifts an Avenger would give to another Avenger, I'd love to hear. Not everyone's gift is set in stone just yet!
> 
> Oh, and for more Bucky and Steve and the other Avengers (and a whole lot of other stuff!) come visit me at stunningsardonyx.tumblr.com !


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